


pretty poison

by lady_gt



Series: laurence gets his ass destroyed [5]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Dacryphilia, Hate Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Semi-Public Sex, all of the angst, laurence is kind of a little shit but micolash is an outright turd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_gt/pseuds/lady_gt
Summary: Set a little while after "rotten".Laurence knows Micolash resents him. The feeling is mutual.
Relationships: Laurence/Micolash (Bloodborne)
Series: laurence gets his ass destroyed [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840924
Comments: 20
Kudos: 12





	pretty poison

Laurence wonders to himself if Micolash knew more about the experiment than he lets on. He'd been told with rather condescending hand-waves that Micolash wasn't entirely sure about the aphrodisiac being as strong as it was, but with the circumstances now Laurence is beginning to reconsider. He really ought to have suspected it earlier, considering the events of last night - even though the effects still linger so heavy in his body he still flushes in embarrassment at the memory of being caught between Micolash and Damian, reduced to nothing more than a desperate sniveling mess thanks to their ministrations. By the Blood he was pathetic (perhaps he still is), crying and pleading as though he were some sort of common whore. 

Things are largely the same today. At least he can walk again (he wasn't sure if he'd be able to because of last night, wondering if he'd wake up with his ass sore and legs stubbornly refusing to carry him). But then there's the matter of that damning heat that still remains. The feelings still linger, and while he _can_ walk it's still a chore to put one foot in front of the other. Every once in a while he clenches up from a shockwave of thick, honey-like lust that makes him drop his pencil or suck in his breath.

 _Damn you, Micolash,_ he thinks to himself alone in the bathroom. He bites down on his knuckles to muffle the noises he makes, slipping his free hand into his pants and wrapping his fingers around his cock. _Damn you._

He knows that Micolash hates him. Is it jealousy of the fact that the students at Byrgenwerth flock to him whenever he speaks? Is it superiority, that smug little-pat-on-the-back that he may lack Laurence's charisma but at least he's not a street-rat-turned-whore whose very presence is one big facade? Or is it because their ambition overlaps, they both want to go far ahead in life and prove others wrong and to see that ambition in someone else is sickening? Laurence thinks it may be all three, but he doesn't worry about it, let alone worry why. For he hates Micolash too.

* * *

"Aren't _you_ the very picture of dignity, Laurence."

He hates the sarcasm that drips from Micolash's voice, as numbing as venom. Laurence knows that from the moment he stumbles in, hair half-undone from its tie and cheeks flushed. He's grateful for the fact that his robes drape over him and conceal his hardness. There are tears threatening to leak from his eyes - whether tears of bitterness or of arousal he can't say. All that he knows for sure is that he can't handle this, he's slipping under the aphrodisiac's influence and that safe for the brief minutes of respite he finds touching himself that he won't get relief.

Micolash makes sure to lock the door to the classroom. He hates that look of arrogance dancing in those dull, dark eyes - Micolash _knows_ Laurence wants him and revels in it. He knows how Laurence envies the fact that he bribed his way into Byrgenwerth just because his family's wallowing in money, while Laurence had to claw his way up to here from the streets. Yet here they stand before each other face-to-face.

"You can quit stalling, Micolash. You know exactly what I'm here for."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that, Laurence. Why don't you tell me why we've met up in this classroom only mere inches away from prying eyes - or beg, if you want to."

(He does want to beg. That's what he loathes about Micolash and himself.)

"Please..." His voice comes out as a faint whisper, hands slipping down past his robes as he tries to undress himself. "Please fuck me. I can't bear it any longer, can't go about the rest of the day like this - just grant me some relief."

It's only when Laurence starts to lower his pants that he realizes he's begun to cry. Hot tears streak down his cheeks - he weeps for the heat that's spread around inside his stomach, weeps because of how the heat overwhelms him and sweeps over him, smothering him and rendering him barely able to communicate beyond pleading to Micolash. He wants this (he's wanted it before, too, and wants it now more than anything). When he finishes lowering his pants he settles down onto one of the desks, waiting for Micolash to shove his legs apart and have his wicked way with him. But he doesn't. He instead approaches Laurence as he cries from the stimulation he's not getting, listening to his choked sobs and seemingly savoring them.

"I had no idea you'd be so beautiful when you cried." He reaches up a finger to trace the tear tracks staining Laurence's face. Rough fingers smudge wetly against his cheek, lips touch at his cheek and a tongue probs at some of his fresh tears. 

"Micolash-"

He angles into Laurence, palm brushing cool against his white-hot cock. Laurence angles his head so that Micolash can grab onto his collar and drag a kiss down his neck, lips mouthing a mimic of a mark.

"I can stop," he whispers. 

"Don't. Please don't."

He hates the smug smile adorning Micolash's face when he slips his fingers into him, wet with lubrication and probing around, brushing up against the narrow walls of his ass and twisting around. But he likes the way Micolash's fingers drag around inside of him and press, slowly widening him. It takes Laurence biting down on the collar of his robe to shut himself up - they've locked the door and are huddled against one of the desks in a far corner of the room away from the entrance, but what if someone catches them anyways? Using his free hand Micolash makes new patterns on Laurence's face when he swipes his tears away.

"I've thought about you crying sometimes," he says. "I'm lucky enough to see it - so impossibly erotic."

He clings to Micolash by the collar of his robes when he shoves his way inside, tailbone hitting the desk as he locks his legs around Micolash's waist and struggles to drag him closer, the heels of his boots digging into his back. Micolash fucks him slowly, cock scraping harshly at Laurence's insides. He grins when he looks down at Laurence's face gleaming with sweat and tearstains, half-open mouth letting out mumbled curses and moaning distorted from his heavy breathing. He reaches a hand away from Micolash's neck to scrape at his shoulder through his shirt by his nails, earning a small delight from the way Micolash's face scrunches up in pain. Two can play at this game. He hates the way Micolash resumes his agonizingly slow and brutal pace, dragging out their time and refusing to give Laurence what he wants.

It's about halfway through that Micolash pushes Laurence down so as to get a better taste of the tears on his face: He presses his lips to the places where Laurence's crying has left its mark, the moist parts of his lips tasting the salty residue of Laurence's crying. And Laurence cries even more, though whether it's from pain or pleasure or some mangled, grotesque combination of both he can't really tell.

He pulls out of Laurence partially when he comes, painting the surface of his thighs with streaks of his seed. Laurence climaxes only a few minutes later but it's no relief for him: He knows that this is only temporary, he'll go back to the rest of the day stumbling around and desperate for more contact. Were he more desperate (or perhaps more loathsome, pathetic) he'd beg for Micolash to stay, to give him more of what he needs or even just drag him off to somewhere less risky so that he won't be left alone with come running down his thighs and coating his stomach. He knows when he makes his way out of the classroom struggling to remain discreet that he'll be sore, and won't find proper respite till he makes it back to his dorm and can be alone.

Instead, though, Laurence tries to pick up his last scraps of dignity and redress himself. He's already stooped low enough for Micolash, and Micolash has already stooped low enough for him. There's no need to go any further.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so ive seen some people express concern about burnout for me bc i mean i did post four fics within the span of a week so... im gonna try and slow it down to a few fics per month or one fic per week and take a break instead bc that's self care babey!! but i DID have this idea and im not burned out now, so i wrote it before i could forget about it. 
> 
> also i just realized i may or may not be really into dacryphilia (the crying fetish)?? hmm. fuck. not that thats a bad thing its just. an Inch Resting epiphany. anyways... i love the idea of micolash having a crying fetish too. makes for interesting fic material
> 
> as always tho i take requests for the saga of "laurence gets his ass destroyed" - anyways i wouldnt mind some prompts or requests for vicar laurence content because ive only done stuff for byrgenwerth laurence
> 
> also some of the more recent laurence/ludwig fic i just saw uploaded is so fuckign cute and good??? i gotta comment on those stories hgffgbbfg


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